


Miguel Alvarez Swabs the Deck

by scotgirl



Series: Miguel Alvarez Goes Fishing [7]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dominance, Gen, M/M, Platonic Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scotgirl/pseuds/scotgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miguel's disappointed in the task assigned by Ryan, and has to improvise when an unexpected threat arises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miguel Alvarez Swabs the Deck

**Author's Note:**

> Characters owned by Tom Fontana. I don't benefit except for the satisfaction of taking them out to play!

Miguel had taken a shower, eaten breakfast, and hidden a shank in a pocket he'd sewn into his work pants. He wanted to be prepared for whatever this day held,wanted to impress Ryan and let him know that he, Miguel, had cojones (this thought brought back the memory of last evening's strange encounter, but he wasn't ready yet to let his mind wander there). The upcoming meeting would be focused on scheming and plotting. Miguel was sure he was up for the challenge.

As he stood near the entrance to the cafeteria, trying to act nonchalant and as if he had a reason for being there, Ryan slouched out in his kitchen whites. Paying no attention to Miguel, he strode past and headed toward the unit. Miguel waited a beat and then followed. As he passed the staircase, an arm reached out to grab his and pull him into the shadows. "Guess what, amigo, I have a job for you today.". Ryan's mouth pressed against Miguel's ear, and his tongue gave it a lick. "While you're doing it, I'll be setting up a lucrative smuggling operation". Ryan nipped at the flesh under Miguel"s ear at his jawline, as his leg pressed into Miguel's crotch. Jesus! Ryan pulled Miguel back into the public area, where his erection was now on display. Miguel turned his body toward Ryan to try to hide his arousal. "Since you have nothing better to do than clean the quad," continued Ryan, "I need you to hang with Cyril for awhile today. Make sure he puts on his work clothes and meets me at the cafeteria at 10:30."

Miguel was taken aback. He'd anticipated shaking down some inmates, stealing something, or mischief of that sort. Hang with Cyril!? Insulting, and was likely meant as such. Miguel didn't realize his mouth was hanging open until O'Reily said, "I don't really want to look at your tonsils, Alvarez. And before you say something fucked up, remember that Cyril is the most important thing in the shithole, to me. I meant what I said about keeping him away from Guerra and those other assholes. If you want to partner up, that's the deal. Take it or leave it, I could give a fuck."

What the hell else did he have to do, other than clean? "I'll do it."

Twenty minutes later, Miguel sat in the O'Reily Pod, on the lower bunk next to Cyril. "Did Ryan tell you that I need your help today,Cyril? McManus wants the unit really clean today," he improvised. We have to do some work, and then we'll break for 15 minutes. I can help you get ready for your job in the kitchen, then we'll go to the the cafeteria to meet Ryan."

You'd think Cyril had won the fucking lottery. "I'm a good worker, Miguel! You're gonna be real proud of me.". Miguel thought, "That's exactly what I was thinking about myself this morning while waiting for your asshole brother, " but the words, of course, remained unvoiced.

Cyril actually did well with the wiping and mopping. One of the hacks found an extra mop and bucket- probably one he was supposed to be using himself - and the two men worked companionably together, although Cyril kept up a stream of one-sided conversation. "When it's break time, I want to play hacky sack, Miguel," he drawled. "Ryan thinks I like to color but that's for babies."

Propping his mop against the wall, Miguel asked Cyril, "What's your favorite game, man? If you could have anything you wanted in Em City to play with, what would it be?"

Cyril didn't hesitate. "Cars," he replied, "and a track to race them on. A bunch of signs and . . . one of those bridge things that the cars could go under. That would be so cool! Miguel, will you ask Ryan to get me some cars?"

At the Control Desk, Sean Murphy and Tim McManus observed the exchange between the two men. McManus raised hs eyebrows and Murphy shrugged. "Interesting, Sean. Possibilities.". "If you say so, Tim.". Murphy was not the idealist McManus was, constantly trying to prove he could change prisoners' behavior through a unique brand of philosophy. Murphy simply kept order in the most effective and equitable way he could in Em City.

Meanwhile, Cyril and Miguel began to put away their mops, buckets, and cleaning rags. Miguel's  
guard was down; he was totally unprepared when Morales nodded to Guerra and a couple other El Norte members, who were sitting at one of the card tables. Guerra laid down his cards and stretched, stood and acknowledged Morales' nod, gestured to his companions. The three men sauntered over to the cleaning closet in which Miguel and Cyril were depositing their supplies. Miguel noticed their approach when the El Norte bangers were merely an arm's length away. Too late to grab his shank- Fuck! He recalled Ryan's warning to keep Cyril safe from El Norte. "Cyril, it's getting late and you need to change for work. Hurry up to your Pod, man.".

"But Miguel, we didn't have break time! We were going to play hacky sack!"

Guerra was close enough to hear the remark and sneered. "I'll show you some hacky sack, retard. Watch your friend here bounce off the edge of my knife.". He slashed the shank across Miguel's bicep as Miguel spun toward Cyril. Brain-damaged he might be, but the man never shied from a fight.  
Miguel had to distract Cyril quickly. "Cyril, go find Ryan - NOW," he ordered. "Do it, Cyril, so we can get your cars!". Somehow, the mention of Ryan and the coveted cars set Cyril's feet in motion, away from the violence.

When Miguel turned back to his attackers, two men grabbed his arms while Chico Guerra pounded his face and torso. "You little motherfucker, today you're goin' down," he hissed.

Fortunately, the arm Guerra'd bloodied was slick, and the man holding it was having trouble keeping his grip. Miguel twisted into the hold, freed the damaged arm, and grabbed the mop he'd just placed in the cleaning closet's entryway. With all the strength he could summon, he brought the handle down on Guerra's own arm, forcing the man to release his hold on the shank. By that time, the hacks had heard the commotion, and were coming to break up the fight. Guerra was whining, "My arm, my wrist, you fuckin broke my wrist!".

Miguel looked not at his attackers but at Morales, who calmly met his gaze. "Shut up, Chico, you fucking whiny motherfucker," slurred Miguel, before the world turned black and he slumped unconscious onto the cement.


End file.
